


Slow Jam

by bendy_quill



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendy_quill/pseuds/bendy_quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the community of Alexandria sleeps into the night, Michonne shares a dance with Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Jam

When night settles over Alexandria, the place is quiet, save for the occasional pop of gunfire near the walls. She checked on the children an hour ago; Carl is in his bed fast asleep and Judith is in her crib squirming around.

They are safe and things are fine. Perfect almost.

Rick flops down next to her on the couch. He sighs and drags his hands down his face.

“Long day?” she asks.

He snorts. “A _day_ , more like.”

It’s been like that for weeks now– fruitless ventures into the countryside where little to no supplies wait. The food stores have been low for a while and each time a group comes back with empty bags and weary faces, Rick deflates even more. He’s a good man that will do anything to protect them, but the shortage of supplies within the reserves has him on edge.

She wishes she could tell him that things are going to be fine, that they’ll eventually find more food for everyone with time. But all this time on the unforgiving roads has eroded their sense of optimism and prioritized survival above all else. He’s tired, they both are, and though they knew that building home from the ground up again was not going to be easy, the stress of it all weighs heavily upon their shoulders. 

An uncomfortable silence hangs between them. She racks her brain to think of something, anything that could provide any bit of consolation in this moment. Michonne looks up and sees the old CD player sitting on the desk in the far corner of the room and an idea forms in her head.

She rises from her spot and approaches the device. His eyes are on her, the intense blue gaze focuses on her back. There are CDs scattered around the old thing, lucky finds here and there that brought a bit of joy with each discovery. Michonne searches through the stack until she finds what she’s looking for– a disk with red marker scribbled all over the surface, courtesy of little Judith. Michonne picks up the disk, sets it into the player, and pushes play.

The soft sound of the horns rises through the room followed by a dulcet tone calling out in the quiet room. She closes her eyes as the song plays, lets the soothing riffs of the piano flows through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. 

It’s been a long time since she’s heard this one. It was night then too, though not quite as quiet with the large amount of guests idly chattering just behind her. She was different then– softer and more trusting, vulnerable and eloquent with her looks and tastes. Her dress was a sleek emerald color, long and elegant with a flattering neckline, graced with glittering diamonds around her neck and matching earrings dangling from her ears.  _He_ was alive then, dressed to the nines in his crisp black suit and trading playful banter with her with that charming smile on his face. They danced on the balcony under the twinkling stars, the runs of the song ushering them on as they twirled into the night.

Michonne huffs a small laugh and turns to face Rick. His lips are quirked in an uneven smile and his eyes are trained on her face. He rises from his spot and boldly swaggers towards her. Rick incredibly close to her, forcing her to look up at him as he watches her through cool blue eyes. She wonders what he would’ve looked like in a well tailored suit with trimmed hair and a clean shave, the subtle scent of his earthen aftershave flooding her senses and scattering her thoughts as he stood close.  

Her breath hitches when he touches her, rough calluses brushing along the sliver of skin just beneath the base of her tank top. His hands slide up her stomach, then reach for hers, interlocking their fingers. Michonne looks up and stares into his stormy eyes– brilliant and blue, electrifying gaze bearing deep into her dark brown eyes and filling her with a pleasant heat. 

There are no words between them, just a gentle step back and an eager step forward, and she lets him lead her as he wraps one arm around her waist and the other takes her hand in his. Her free hand delicately rests on his shoulder blade and she straightens her body to accommodate his larger frame. 

The first step is easy to follow and the transition is so smooth. He holds her close, eyes never leaving her face as they slowly shuffle in a tight circle. Rick is much better than she thought he’d be– he leads her in simple step, softly rocking and bobbing to the slow beat of the song. His hand rests right above her waist and presses her close to his body, fingers gently brushing against her skin as they move together.

The first night they spent together had them touching each other in ways that would addle her thoughts for weeks. He held her close then, callused hands caressing her so gently, trembling with equal parts anticipation and anxiousness. Michonne remembers every place those fingers visited, how it made her feel to finally have his hands where’s she’s wanted them for so long, but what she especially remembers were those hands on her face, firm but not painful and holding her steady so that he could stare deep into her eyes. 

She bites her lip and shudders when his eyes flick down to watch the motion. He looked at her the same way then.   

“It’s a nice song,” he whispers softly. 

“It’s one of my favorites,” she says, soft smile on her lips. “It isn’t very old, but it’s certainly a classic.”

Rick chuckles, raises the hand clasping hers and raises them. It isn’t proper form, not for a dance so close and informal, but she twirls nonetheless, laughing as she folds back into his warm embrace. Michonne rests her head against his chest, sighing when his check nestles upon the thick lengths of her locs.

He’s so liberal with his touch now, giving it freely when he sees her troubled and blank expressions. This world has made him ruthless with his duty to protect everyone, but still, he is a gentle man deep down that only wants to see his family survive this vicious world. The first time he touched her, she honestly thought about breaking his fingers. Now, they sway in the quiet of their home, immersed in the velvety sound of a voice yearning for a partner so close yet so far away.  

Finding any bit of peace in this brutal new world is a small bit of a blessing. Even if they are tired and hungry, brimming with anger and ready to snap at anything that draws their ire, they have each other; alive and well, a little beaten but not broken just yet.

“Rick,” she calls out, “we can pull through this. We always do.”

He doesn’t answer her at first and her heart flutters at the silence. They always pull through, even with impossible odds stacked against them. Survival comes first, but perseverance has carried them through much worse than a food shortage. 

Both of his arms slip around her waist and squeeze her tight to his body. He takes a deep breath.

“We can,” he finally says. “We definitely can." 


End file.
